


I'm A Slave For You

by WalkingDredd



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Derek is an RA, F/M, Foam Party, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Bromance, Scott and Stiles are Roommates, Stiles is a thorn in Derek's side, Stiles is not a sex slave, charity auction, no matter how much he wishes he could be, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingDredd/pseuds/WalkingDredd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would do anything to go to the end of year foam party. Until he had to become Derek Hales slave for the week. Stiles was sure that he was going to die before the party even began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm A Slave For You

“This is by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever gotten us into,” Scott hissed.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he turned to face his friend. Scott was looking nervous and as though he was about to sign his life away.

“I didn’t make you sign up for this,” Stiles gave a shrug. He couldn’t be held responsible for Scott’s actions.

“You wrote my name down on the signup sheet.”

Well, there was that. Maybe Stiles could be held a little bit responsible.

“It’s for a good cause,” Stiles shot back, knowing that using his best friends need to help others would make Scott change his mind. Sometimes that guy was too nice for his own good. They edged slowly along the wall that a mass crowd of other ‘sign ups’ had lined against, each waiting to be called onto the stage and await the judgement of their peers and supposed friends.

“We’re about to be auctioned off,” Scott snapped, his uneven jaw was clenched and he was speaking through his teeth.

“It’s for a good cause,” Stiles repeated, putting on his best puppy dog look. 

Scott’s jaw unclenched and he gave a loud sigh; Stiles smiled widely and gave a little nod of his head, which escalated into a little head bob dance. Stiles caught a tall black guy shooting him a glare; he had a clipboard in his hands and crossed off their names once they had arrived. Stiles quickly stopped his head bob, choosing instead to drum his fingers on his legs as he turned to look at Scott. Scott seemed to be having a mini breakdown. He was banging the back of his head on the wall they were leaning against, and was letting out a pitiful sob.

“We’ll be the persons slave.”

“It’s to raise money for starving children.”

Scott gave a scoff.

“It’ll be for an entire week, Stiles! And it’s not for starving children. It’s so that we can get enough money for the giant Hawaiian foam party.”

Stiles gave a shrug. “Which will have food, and is now a party that we’re guests at, because we signed up. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I can’t do this for a week. What if someone who hates me bids on me?”

Stiles grabbed for Scott’s shoulders, whirling him around to face him so that he could help Scott snap out of this. They needed to go to this giant foam party; they needed to make themselves known to the student population of Beacon Hills University. They would finally be one of those cool people who other cool people people actually wave at in the hallways, and not glare at or avoid.

“No one hates you, Scott,” Stiles said, trying to reassure him. He was also trying not to think about what Scott had said. A slight worry was beginning to fill Stiles at the thought of someone that hated him bidding on him, and wished that he had just convinced Scott to bid on him. He wondered if he still had time to bribe Erica from his History class to put a pity bid on him.

“What if someone who hates you, bids on you? You have to stay in this persons place for the entire week. They’d murder you,” Scott said, seemingly reading Stiles’ mind.

Stiles gave a frown.

“The only person who dislikes me that much is the RA. Greenberg has assured me that he’s gone home to deal with a family emergency. I don’t need to worry.” Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder, pushing him so that they could move up the line. 

The guy with the clipboard was following them slowly, and Stiles tried to ignore him. Scott was nodding slowly, but didn’t look too reassured.

“I don’t know why Derek hates me anyway; I haven’t done anything to him.” Stiles let go of Scott’s shoulders to slouch against the wall himself. There weren’t too many people in front of them now.

Scott finally gave a laugh. Even clipboard guy laughed. Stiles turned to glare at him and vaguely recognized him from one of his History classes. He normally sat in the back, sipping a pretentiously massive coffee that made every fiber in Stiles’ body jealous. Stiles could have sworn that he was called either Vernon or Boyd, or Bernon.

Bernon was probably his name.

Stiles turned away from possibly-called-Bernon and looked at Scott, who at least seemed happier.

“Well, you haven’t annoyed him sober. But you’ve been a drunken pain in his ass since we started here.”

“Hey! He shouldn’t have signed up to be the RA if he didn’t want to be disturbed.”

The line moved again and Stiles realized that he was now next to go onto the stage and be auctioned off. Nerves began settling in as the worry that no one would buy him. Images of being booed off the stage flooded his mind; he tried to shake them away.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about Derek not being here,” possibly-called-Bernon said. 

Stiles turned to face him again, his mouth dropping open and his eyebrows rising as nerves seemed to assault his stomach, causing a horrible sick feeling to occur.

“What was that, Bernon?” Stiles asked.

“It’s Boyd,” not-called-Bernon snapped at Stiles, rolling his eyes before he looked back down at his clipboard, scratching through a few names. “In fact, I specifically remember him saying that he might come down and put a bid on.”

“Shit,” Stiles hissed, feeling slightly faint at the prospect of Derek betting on him. “I’m dead.”

Stiles didn’t have time to say anything else, before he was grabbed by the arm and yanked through a curtain, catching his foot and stumbling onto the stage.

Laughter rang through the crowd he was standing in front of, and Stiles straightened up slowly, not wanting to embarrass himself anymore as he looked around. There were quite a few people, most of whom he didn’t recognize.

“Here we have Stiles Stilinski,” purred the voice of Lydia Martin. Stiles shook away his fear to give her a smile. She winked playfully back at him before taking his hands and walking him to the center of the stage. “He’s a History major, has dabbled in the Lacrosse team for a while, and from what I’ve heard around, he’s a great kisser.”

Stiles turned to frown at her. You kiss Scott once at a party whilst drunk and the world would never let you forget it. Stiles didn’t want that to be the only thing that people in this school remembered him for; getting a drunken kiss off an equally drunken Scott.

He found Lydia looking him up and down slowly as she held a microphone in front of her. She licked her lips slowly, before turning to the crowd. Stiles realized that she was still holding his hand and he hoped that he wasn’t sweating too much.

“Now, who’s going to start the bid at twenty dollars?” she called to the crowd.

Stiles felt his eyes drift over them as the bidding began, looking for a sign of the tall, built like a tank RA who could make his life hell. It wasn’t until the bidding got to fifty dollars that he found Derek Hale, and that was only because his voice had called out a bid.

“One hundred dollars.”

There were shocked murmurs surging through the crowd as everyone turned to look at Derek, who had his arms folded in front of his chest, a glare on his handsome, stubbly face and his eyebrow furrowed into a dark look. It was the look that told Stiles he was about to die. Stiles begged in his head that someone else would put a bid in, but it wasn’t looking likely.

“Going once. Going twice,” Lydia called, letting go of Stiles’ hand so that she could count down on her fingers. “Sold!”

Stiles gulped, taking in the evil smile that was now crossing Derek’s face.

Stiles needed to find Greenberg so that he could murder him. He had to do it before Derek tortured him.

Slowly and painfully.

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to Julie for going through this chapter for me :D


End file.
